There were other friendships, however, that I soon realised I would have to leave behind. Relationships where the main thing we had in common was drinking or that relied on me being the most exuberant, extroverted (ie pissed) version of myself. These connections were built on a shared wish to escape reality, which had often been fun, but was something I could no longer afford to do.

I was almost 27 when I got sober. It was a huge life change that came about because the way I was living had become unsustainable for both my physical and mental health. Things had spiralled so far out of control that I’d ended up under the care of a psychiatrist, who said that in order to get better, I should stop drinking and go to AA. Reluctantly, I did as he suggested, and what I heard at my first meeting made enough sense that, in spite of my continued reluctance, I kept going back.

A lot of the people I used to drink with were fine to carry on: their lives could sometimes get a little messy but rarely in a way that threatened their ability to function. Stopping drinking meant I suddenly found myself out of step with many of my peers. At first, my sobriety felt too fragile to simply swap the whisky for water and try to keep up, so with a heavy heart I retreated, declining invitations while trying not to feel too sorry for myself.

Then there were the friends who seemed to find my sobriety a challenge to something they weren’t yet ready to face. Maybe their own relationship with alcohol wasn’t particularly healthy, or they couldn’t understand my decision to stop and thought I was being overly dramatic. They would often cancel plans at the last minute or were always busy when I suggested meeting up. I felt sad about it, but I understood – when I was still drinking, I rarely wanted to spend time with sober people either. Too often, their abstinence felt like a provocation. While I couldn’t see why at the time, I later came to understand it was a projection of my own conflicted relationship with alcohol. On some level I was ashamed of my reliance on it, which meant I was uncomfortable around people who seemed to be free from that dependence – I felt judged, though I can now see that the judgment was my own.

“I knew I had to stop drinking. I didn’t know it would change my friendships forever”